"I wass want her," said Shoni, with a jerk of his thumb towards Valmai, "to put on her best frock, but no!" and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "there's odd things woman are! 'ts 'ts!"
"Well, indeed," said Valmai, "I did not think a smart gown would suit the fields, whatever!"
"Couldn't be better, Miss Powell," said Ellis, arranging his group, and introducing Shoni as a shadowy background. With a few deft touches of his brush he had drawn the outlines of his picture, with good-natured artfulness devoting much time to finishing off Corwen and dismissing Valmai and Cardo.
"Now you two can go," he said, "but I can't do without Shoni. A little black spot at the back of that ear?"
"No, no—brown," said Shoni, delighted to be of such importance, "and the same brown smot on the nother ear, and that's the only smot upon her!"
He watched with intense interest the progress of the picture, calling the artist's attention to all Corwen's good points as though he were appraising her at a cattle sale, and an hour passed away quickly both to the artist and Shoni; but to Cardo and Valmai, what a golden hour! to stroll away together over the soft grass studded with buttercups, down to the edge of the cliffs, where they sat among the gorze bushes looking out at the rippling blue bay, silent from sheer happiness, but taking in unconsciously the whole beauty of the scene, for it was engraved upon their minds and often recalled in after years.
"There!" said Gwynne Ellis at length, closing his portfolio with a snap, "I can finish the rest at home—"
"Iss, iss," said Shoni, "iss not so much otts about Valmai."
"And to-morrow I will finish your gaiters, Shoni."
"Very well, sir; pliss you remember, seven buttons on both of the two legs."